Tribes of St Trinian's
by Bruteaous
Summary: Kelly Jones has never known love. Sex, yes; love, no. Can a new student really make her feel something she thought was impossible? Belle/Kell. Rated M just in case.
1. Preamble: More Than You Can Bear

_**Tribes of St. Trinian's**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the St. Trinian's franchise or any of its characters. I am just borrowing them here for a little while.

"_I was a ghost before you came_

_And I was a slave but then I changed._

_And I will take the good and bad;_

_For many I am a slave to this again_

_So leave me alone before the strain of listening to me_

_Becomes more than you can bear…"_

_JES_—_Ghost_

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><p><em><strong>Preamble: More Than You Can Bear<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Haven't you shamed me enough?" The dark haired man behind the desk asked. Pushing violently away from the piece of furniture, he swivelled out of his office chair and worried his widow's peak with one hand. "First, you get tossed out of St. Catherine's for bugger knows what and now you fail your entrance exam to Cheltenham. What am I supposed to do with you? I promised my dear sainted brother on his deathbed that I would look after you and here you are failing out of primary school like some despicable dosser's runt. I repeat myself, Kelly, what am I supposed to do with you?"<p>

The ten year old brunette swallowed and stared down at her shoes, actually afraid of looking up again until the man in front of her had reined his anger in some.

"I don't know, Uncle," the girl muttered.

"What was that? Speak up, girl!" Her uncle prompted, turning around to lean across his desk so his fifty something ears could better hear her.

"I said I am sure I don't know what you should do with me, Uncle," Kelly repeated more properly than before.

Her uncle was an old fashioned man who only respected three things in life: propriety, money, and outside reputation. Little Kelly Jones was neither proper, moneyed, or reputable and that made her the bane of her only guardian's existence. He never missed an opportunity to remind her what she was not and that—even at the tender age of ten—he had no hopeful prospects for her other than to marry her off to become some other man's problem once she was old enough. He reminded her daily that it hadn't been his choice to take her in, that fate or karma or whatever it was had screwed them both over by taking her parents away and he was also never a man to suffer alone. As a private solicitor it was his job to make sure people suffered with him, legally most of the time, but privately was just as good when it came to his only niece and only family.

Personally, Cyril Jones didn't even like children. He couldn't think of any more persistent or difficult a pest to eradicate and as a high end solicitor in the private sector, he had met his fair share of human vermin, but children were the worst. And his niece was the worst excuse for a child he'd ever had the unfortunate displeasure of taking care of.

He moved back to his chair and reached into a mahogany box to pull out a thin rolled cigar and a pair of cutters. When he had the cigar the way he wanted it, he lit it and took a first puff, leaning back in the tall leather chair.

"The question is what to do with you?" He thought aloud, "No decent school will have you now that you not only bombed your examination to Cheltenham, but also managed to receive a negative score, which I didn't even know was possible until you did it. Your behavioural record at St. Catherine's has also limited our choices of where to put you as no respectable institution is going to want to take in a repeat junior offender and twice proven arsonist. If it were up to me I would just let you rot in a room somewhere for the rest of your sodding life, but it won't do to have Education Welfare breathing down my neck now will it?"

Kelly sat on her hands. Her dark hair fell in a short mushroom cut around her head almost as much as a security policy against rogue flames than just an easily manageable hair style. She was a slight, underweight kid who was so small and squeaky that even Minnie mouse looked more intimidating than she did most days, oh, but how appearances were deceiving.

"I suppose," Cyril sighed, loosening his tie with a free hand, "that it wouldn't hurt to look at places that have accepted members of our family in the past. We might have a leg up there. Your father and I both went to Eton so there's no hope of that. Your mother went to this little dot on the map not too far from Cambridge. What was it called? St. Trinian's, I believe. Hm, perhaps if your mother made a good enough impression there, we'll be able to skirt some of the more discriminating questions on the registry form like 'does your child have a criminal record'. I'll phone up the Headmistress this afternoon. You better pray she's not one of those staunch tight arsed birds who take such pride in enrolling the proper students or else we're both done for."

A small smile settled on Kelly's face, though she immediately tried to hide it at her uncle's glare. A new school. New teachers to torment. New girls to undermine and fight with and just another chance to get back at her uncle for letting her know every day just how much he wished she wasn't his responsibility. She would show them. She would show them all and in six months' time she would again be without a school and fully her uncle's problem once more. _Serves the miserable bastard right_, Kelly thought as he eyed her with another disgusted look.

He nodded his head as if to himself, eyes scrutinizing her as if she was some sort of animal he was assessing the condition of.

"St. Trinian's it is," He said and that was how Kelly Jones first came to Miss Fritton's safe haven for unruly girls.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Chapter One

"_I've waited for so long _

_Put up with your shenanigans _

_I'm going to take you on_

_And you won't know the half of it. _

_I'm gonna put you in your place_

_You've got the queen; I've got the ace_

_I'll light you up and smoke you down_

_And watch the rings go round and round…"_

_Nokia and Noisettes—Saturday Night_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter One: "You're Only Supposed to Blow the Bloody Doors Off!"<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Eons later…<em>

Miss was right. There really was nothing worse than rogue C4.

What used to be the chemistry classroom sat in gunpowder shambles. The wooden floor had a hole in it the size of a small pony and all of the walls and lab equipment were stained black, with the exception with a few white shadows of the girls who had been on the periphery of the blast radius, blocking the residue from caking the walls in those areas. First years were already on clean-up duty under the supervision of the Sopranos, Tara & Tania. A few girls from the upper forms had volunteered their services as well for reasons known only to them. In the orderless world of bedlam that was St. Trinian's Girls School, it wasn't unusual for girls to volunteer to help with a task like this just so the Sopranos would know that they had once done them a favour. Tara and Tania weren't as tough or caustic as they pretended to be in the inventive little attic nook that the first and second years controlled, but it never hurt to have a couple favours in the bank someplace.

The 8th years had voted themselves in charge of all repairs, both mandatory and aesthetic. Many of their girls who had volunteered were either eco-freakos with a Trustafarian streak or odds who had gotten the most out of Miss Cleaver's short one term seminar in wood working after Miss Fritton had announced a bonus (yet to be paid) to whatever instructor could introduce a new course into the curriculum.

Celia perched on top of a tarp on one of the cleared lab tables, reading. She looked up when the bell on the rope beside her gave a jingle and she began pulling it through the temporary pulley attached to the ceiling. A basket soon emerged at its end filled with an assortment of useful junk.

The rope was tied off on a rope handle and Celia expertly guided the basket into her lap.

Nora Quigley, an 8th year who proudly classified herself as a chippy, opened her hand and Celia dropped a medium length nail into her palm on cue.

The plaster on the north facing wall had already been mostly patched up by the time Kelly Jones sauntered into the room. She stopped and surveyed the girls at work, propping her hands up on the waist of her black pencil skirt.

"Not bad, girls," She said, turning around in a circle, taking in the not completely gone black smudges on the ceiling and walls as well as the still rather prominent hole in the floor. "But I'm afraid we'll have to pick up the pace a bit. We have a new student coming in today and Miss Fritton wants us at our best for her arrival."

The twins exchanged looks and Celia looked up from the book she had reclaimed.

"She's never cared before how long it takes us. What's the catch, Kel?" Tania spoke up.

A wiry smile came over Kelly's face. The twins might be young, but they were no one's fools. They'd give Tony Blair and his bloody minded liberals a run for their lives, but luckily for them, the twin dynamos weren't interested enough in politics to wage a full scale war against the government...yet.

"Polly swiped the file from Bursar's desk yesterday. New girl's Miss Fritton's niece. Seems she has something to prove."

Tara's blonde eyebrows furrowed over the crown of her sunglasses, "We're going to need reinforcements, Kel."

"Already taken care of."

Kelly brought two fingers up to her mouth and whistled loudly. Chelsea appeared in a pair of skin tight slacks that had obviously never seen a full day of manual labour in their life and pair of safety goggles. Celia cringed inwardly as Chelsea smiled like this was the highest honour outside of a BAFTA she would be able to win though she was sure the spritely blonde had no idea what sort of work she had been drafted into and Nora sighed loudly.

Kelly cleared her throat for silence. She had anticipated all of their reactions, but now wasn't the time to be fighting amongst themselves. Miss Fritton needed them and right now they were going to deliver.

"Chelsea and her posh totties have offered to help until the second years get out of anger management and Beverly said she would try to keep our visitors as far away from the hole in the ceiling as possible if she remembers."

Chelsea moved beside Celia, gingerly looking through the basket still in her lap at all of the tools nestled inside.

"Oh my God, this is going to be so much fun! Hammering nails into walls won't crack the skin of my hands though will it? Because I need to stay smooth," Chelsea cheered and even Celia had to smile.

Kelly nodded, knowing her own cues better than anyone else, "Alright, back to work, girls."

* * *

><p>Nora and the other 8th years went back to hammering in planks as Celia handed Chelsea a bucket of plaster and a spatula. The blonde totty's enthusiasm dropped four levels, but she didn't complain when two first years came over to guide her, Peaches, and Chloe towards a stained wall to begin their work. With repairs going smoothly for now, Kelly quietly left the room and descended the stairs into the foyer. Beverly was subtly head banging to the rock music on her i-pod and didn't notice the head girl slip by her.<p>

The earpiece in Kelly's ear crackled to life as she approached Miss Fritton's door.

"Two kilometres, Kel," Polly's voice informed.

"Good, keep me updated."

"Will do."

Kelly cleared her throat and knocked quietly on Miss Fritton's office door, letting herself in without the verbal confirmation most everyone else needed in that situation.

"Yes? Ah, Kelly, come in, come in girlie. Don't waste the good air," Miss Fritton waved her in from her place at her desk where she was furiously clicking away at something on the computer. Kelly let herself in and snapped the door shut behind her. "EBay. It's nifty, but just a hair short of the horse if you get what I mean."

Kelly smiled, "You wanted to see me, miss?"

The headmistress leaned back from her desk and removed her glasses.

"I did," She confessed a little more solemnly than was her usual tone. "Make yourself comfortable, girlie. This won't take long."

Kelly did as she was asked and smoothed her hands down her skirt as she picked a cushion on the leather sofa that had yet to be sabotaged for the day. As she crossed her legs Polly's voice came to life in her ear again.

"Just passed the sign."

"Good. Let me know when they start down the drive," Kelly whispered into the mic tucked into her collar.

"Got it."

In the meantime, Miss Fritton had risen and poured herself a whiskey and seltzer. When she was ready she lit up a cigarette with her gun lighter and moved to sit beside the head girl.

"Well my dear, you must know by now that my brother, Carnaby, has finally seen fit to send his daughter to our beloved institution. Such a shame she didn't start out here, but what can I say that miserable shithead Carnaby has always had poor taste in everything. Her name is Annabelle. She and I have never met, but I hear she's a bit of a fretful teetotaller and worse yet, a daddy's girl. I propose as my first act of familial love to change that. Now you, girlie, know our traditions. Make sure she feels welcome will you? And add a little extra green to the slime on me."

Kelly's smile turned into a full spread grin. There was a reason the headmistress was the headmistress. "Yes, miss."

Miss Fritton patted the head girl's knee and laughed, "There's a girl. Now, back to your duties. Someone needs to make sure Bursar survived stepping in for Miss Cleaver in anger management today. If not we are going to need to send in the matron. I swear if Miss Cleaver takes anymore sick days we're going to need a whole new staff."

Kelly rose and composed herself into the steely figure of sexuality and authority she had sacrificed her adolescent years to become. "I'll get right on it, Miss Fritton," and with that she exited the office and was gone.

* * *

><p>Polly's voice in her ear let Kelly know that the 1972 Rolls-Royce they had been tracking up the drive had finally pulled to a stop in front of the school doors. Their new arrivals were here. <em>Showtime<em>,Kelly nodded to herself. She climbed the stairs from the shooting range in the basement after giving orders for two sixth years to guide Bursar up to the matron for treatment. Poor man just wasn't built to take the recoil of semi-automatic weapons and the trigger happy madness of wholehearted second and sixth years hell-bent on making something pay for waking them up on the wrong side of their beds.

Kelly was about to turn the corner slowly into the next room when she heard a high pitched, rodent like little voice echo across the foyer.

"_This is so unbelievably low rent." _

She slowed her gait and stopped at the side of one of the large doorways leading into the entrance hall. Though she was perfectly visible to their guests, Kelly was sure she they wouldn't be observant enough to spot her right off and she was right. A tall, silver haired geezer was standing in front of Beverly's desk trying to get her attention. Silly old fool should have known that if he could hear the music there was no way the girl would've be able to hear him. He leaned forward and turned off the i-pod with a finger.

Beverly immediately sprung out of the chair like someone had lit a fire under her backside.

"We're here to see, Miss Fritton." The elder Fritton leered down at the blonde.

"You're not from Inland Revenue are ya?" She squeaked.

Kelly had to hand it to her, after graduating from St. Trinian's, Miss Fritton had trained Beverly on just what questions were important to ask of a guest and she never missed a beat when it came to that. She'd been with the school for three years now. Before her, St. Trinian's went through secretaries quicker than it did English teachers. The blissfully ignorant blonde was a Godsend.

The older Fritton popped a charming smile and removed his hat, smoothing his hair back from his forehead to make himself look younger than he was while eyeing Beverly up and down like she was a piece of meat, "I'm, uh, Camilla's younger brother."

_Sick old josser_, Kelly grimaced, _you lay a hand on her and your teeth will be back in London before you are. _

"Oh! You'll have to forgive me. Me brain don't kick in 'till Wednesday when I've been out cannin' it all weekend. You know what I mean!" Beverly leaned over the intercom and pushed the button, "Miss Fritton your bruvva's 'ere to see ya!"

Miss Fritton's voice crackled ironically over the static, "I can't understand a word you're saying, Beverly."

Beverly cleared her throat loudly and repeated herself slower than before, "I said, 'you're brother's here to see ya!'"

Kelly watched as the new girl explored what little of the foyer she felt brave enough to on her own and smiled, remembering a time when she was in the same position, walking the room and wondering how she could break into the amnesty box without leaving signs of tampering on the lock while she waited to be admitted to Miss Fritton's office for the very first time. After examining the shrunken heads in the display case apparently the new girl had had about all she wanted to see of the school at that moment and moved over towards another doorway out of Kelly's sightline. Meanwhile, the old man had answered a call on his mobile.

"Now why would I buy a painting from somebody of your dubious reputation?" He guffawed into the phone.

Miss Fritton was sauntering slowly down the stairs in her pre-war eccentric way and gave Kelly a wink out of the corner of one eye before continuing on down towards her family. Loitering in doorways wasn't frowned upon at St. Trinian's. It was encouraged.

"Because that's what you do isn't, Carnaby?"

The old man flipped his mobile closed and walked over to the stairs, blocking Kelly's view enough to convince her that the rest of this scene could play along without her in it. She backtracked quietly out of the doorway and sauntered down the hallway ahead of her. She passed the lower form classrooms for biology and physics and was just coming up on advanced calculus when Polly stepped out of the door.

"How'd it go?" the red haired geek asked, letting the old wooden door drift heavily closed behind her.

"It's still going." Kelly quipped, "They're in Fritton's office now."

"Buggeration," Polly swore, checking her watch for the second time since the newcomers had pulled up to the building. "There goes another £10 I'll never see again."

"Gave into the twins' bet that she wouldn't last five minutes in the front door, did you? Typical," Kelly teased, the smirk on her face growing into an evil grin.

The head computer genius of the geeks only shrugged her shoulders, unbothered, "Have you seen the bint's record? The odds were in my favour."

"Excepting she's a Fritton and they created this hotbed of anarchy we love so much," Kelly finished for her advancing forward a few steps with Polly beside her. "Give it two weeks. I'm sure she'll be marching halfway back to daddy in London by then."

Polly smirked, her bad mood turned upside down, "You're on. I'll go find the twins and tell them we've got a new bet going."

Kelly had to laugh at the geek's eagerness to earn back some of the money she'd just lost, "We haven't even put up a wager yet."

Polly turned around to face her and held up all of the fingers on one hand, "£50, bare minimum."

"Five times the original bet with interest, eh? I'm not biting. £15, take it or leave it, Pol."

Polly sighed and her smirk fell a few degrees. The head girl's tone always left very little in the way of negotiation, but it always held just a bit of fairness in it for every girl.

"Done," Polly sighed again, defeated. "But it's not over till it's over."

Kelly heard the sound of Miss Fritton's office door opening again and raised voices as Carnaby Fritton stepped out followed by his panicking daughter.

"My thoughts exactly," She quipped, swaying back in the direction she had come from.

* * *

><p>Finally on her own, the new girl looked smaller and weaker than almost any other person Kelly had ever seen. She felt sorry for her, having once been a new girl in a strange school herself, but sympathy had its place and it wasn't here or now. All of that could wait. If Miss Fritton was right, this girl could do well here, but best not to get too attached before they knew whether or not she really was St. Trinian's material after all. The stampede of girls that heralded the end of morning classes flooded through the stairwell. Pushing and shoving were fair game, but the Fritton girl didn't do either, she just managed to stand her ground. <em>It's a start, <em>Kelly contemplated.

"Your old man's roller looks like its seen better days," the head girl commented by way of greeting.

If this girl was looking for a warm welcome and someone to hold her hand, she wasn't going to find it here.

"No, it's a classic," Annabelle defended, indignant (a good healthy response). "Daddy is an expert on the finer things. He has an art gallery in Mayfair. I'm Annabelle, Miss Fritton's niece."

Kelly approached her with an even expression on her face, letting the pure sarcasm in her tone speak for itself, "I'll have someone come fetch your bags."

Contrary to what Kelly had thought at first, Annabelle Fritton took confrontation rather well, of the verbal sort anyway. She didn't get angry and implode like most feather headed snobs did, but she didn't lash back like most St. Trinian's would. Instead, she steeled herself beneath an arrogant expression. _Hmm, interesting_.

"I'm sorry I didn't get your name?" Annabelle asked, saying the words like they were a verbal challenge.

Kelly smiled, her dark eyes blazing with the fire of competition she enjoyed so much, "Kelly Jones. I'm head girl."

Annabelle actually had the audacity to scoff at this, "Really?"

Kelly's semi-warm expression cooled and she shouldered calmly by the new girl towards the stairs. All and all the new girl's first day looked like a promising one. The smooth tone of her voice drifted down the steps as she continued on her own way up, rich and dark like the melting of chocolate.

"Welcome to St. Trinian's."

_**TBC…**_

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><p><em><strong>Please leave a review and let me know what you think of the story so far and maybe what confused you or what you would like to see changed if there is anything like that about. Thanks for reading! :]<strong>_


	3. Chapter Two

**A big thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. :] On to the story! **

"_She'll take a tumble on you_

_Roll you like you were dice_

_Until you come out blue_

_She's got Bette Davis eyes"_

_-_Kim Karnes—_Bette Davis Eyes_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Two: Roll You Like You Were Dice<strong>_

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><p>After being doused in a liberal amount of green slime and feathers, then nearly scalded in the showers, and then forced to run through the halls more naked than she even wanted think about, Annabelle had finally managed to settle peacefully into her bed. It took a bit of time though. First, waiting and listening until the jostling madness of the dorms melded into a mild ennui of gentle breathing and murmured dreams; second, building up the nerve to re-emerge into a world that had treated Annabelle so malevolently in the last half day. Third and finally, there was the act of getting up.<p>

The maintenance of a constant state of anarchy took a great deal of energy and by lights out—best party girls in the country or not—all of St. Trinian's girls were three sheets away from a coma. Annabelle let the soft echoes of breathing deepen before pulling back the blankets and sliding out of bed. Quietly, she dressed in the dark, not caring what she looked like or whether her hair was out of place. None of her things had the grace of having been unpacked from her bags before she'd been sent to the showers in a flurry of green slime and feathers. Gathering them all together took only a few minutes.

She was going home.

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><p>Kelly Jones didn't know much about relationships or love, but she knew enough to know that people never cared about you like they were supposed to. Her life up to this point had been a lesson in negligence and emotional distance. No one cared for her, leaving Polly and Chelsea and the twins aside—no one really, <em>really<em> cared for her and Kelly could honestly say that she didn't even know enough of love to truly know what it felt like to be loved or in love. Only the sort of void the lack of love could burn into a person. That was what she felt, the numb emptiness that writhed in her day after day, drowning every substantial feeling she could ever have in cold.

The head girl reclined against the headboard of the double bed in her room, staring into the dark oiled wood of her shut bedroom door. It was a relatively quiet night for the school. Only a few explosions and ear splitting screams had shaken the second floor in the last half hour. The only sound Kelly could hear over the hum of her own heartbeat was the carefree shouting of the first year bookie outside of her door, taking bets and raising odds as the twins accepted the money, openly threatening for more if they thought a particular girl was holding out on them.

Kelly smirked to herself as she picked out the strands of one of the twin's voices promising the wrath of duct tape and a cattle prod if they didn't receive payment for the 5 to 1 odds the unfortunate girl had bet upon and lost. No one from the outside world except a former St. Trinian herself would be able to imagine just how smoothly the school's pupils ran its illicit activities. It was something that matched any false front criminal organization in London. Not even the Krays at their height could compare to the fear Tania and Tara instilled in their underlings.

No one would ever believe a group of naughty schoolgirls could start their own line of homebrewed Vodka plus manufacture a whole host of other items from crystal meth to plastic bombs as well as influence the current price of any and all commercial stocks. It wasn't a wonder that many of St. Trinians former students had gone on to levels of prestige that most mere mortals only dreamed of. Most respectable businessmen paled in comparison to Miss Fritton's girls. Even Kelly's uncle's verbal abilities as a lawyer were put to shame by the posh totty's chat-line. No one knew how to make normal conversation with so many double entendres or apparently normal sentences laced with sexual energy.

The head girl's smile faded as her mind drifted back to the one dark spot in her life. Cyril Jones. Her uncle.

Now there was a piece of work. Every time he looked at her it was as if she wasn't even there, like he probably wished she wasn't. All he ever saw was a financial and physical burden that he planned to dispose on someone else as soon as he was able, but this wasn't the bloody eighteen hundreds and she wasn't his property no matter what he might think. He didn't care if she ever felt or knew what it felt like to be loved. The love of a parent, of a significant other, they would never be felt by her because she didn't know enough of those feelings to pursue them with others.

Kelly glared down at the mouth of the vodka bottle in her hand. _Damn him! Damn him and damn her parents for dying on her! Damn them all! _Kelly leaned back and took a deep draft from the bottle, relishing the swift burn of the alcohol as it sizzled down her throat and into her stomach.

The soft ribbed undershirt of her sleep wear clung to her pale skin in the coolness of the room. Kelly had opened the window some time ago, feeling the vodka in her veins raise her temperature by degrees. It still felt good, but under the blurring buzz of the alcohol, she could still feel plains of gooseflesh sprouting up on her arms and bare legs below the cut of her short shorts.

Drinking always brought out the wildness in her that was glistening just beneath the surface of her usual sensual demeanour, relinquishing all control to the teenage instincts that could set her free. Not caring, not thinking only feeling. Sex was just sex with no negative connotations, drugs were just drugs, and alcohol was just alcohol. It was the only way to live, way better than thinking too much about things that wouldn't matter in five days like her current infatuation with the new girl.

At first glance, Kelly had taken her for a mousy, meek little thing that wouldn't last a week in her home territory, but Annabelle Fritton had come to St. Trinian's full of surprises.

From the first meeting of their eyes, Kelly had known the new girl was more than she seemed. Most new girls either avoided her stare entirely or made an attempt to challenge it. Both times, Kelly would remind them just _why_ she was the head girl of St. Trinian's by not only making them regret it, but solidly putting them into their place in the hierarchy with some choice tortures. However, Annabelle was beyond that.

She had known her place immediately as the lowest rung of the food chain and hadn't tried to change it. What made Annabelle unique above most new girls was that even though she knew her place, the look in her eyes when they faced off on day one had let Kelly know that she wasn't a push over. She had balls of steel like every St. Trinian past and present, she just had to realize she had them was all. Kelly had. She had recognized the fire in the girl's deep hazel eyes, a fire of resistance not retaliation or pent-up hostility. It was a fire that Kelly desperate wanted to consume and be consumed by if it meant getting closer to the younger girl.

Kelly swiped at her eyes tiredly. Maybe she just needed a shag, yeah? It had been a while, what with letting her responsibilities to the school dominate her life thus far this term. She should look up one of the totties. At least one of them was always willing for a little bit of fun and they—out of all of the girls—understood the need and the power of sexual urges. Maybe she'd shoot Chelsea an SMS and see if she or one of her girls were free tonight.

Just as the head girl reached for her phone and flipped down the keyboard, double knocks on her door interrupted her train of thought. Well, screw that idea. She stood up and crossed over to open the door on the identical grins of Tara and Tania.

"Lookout just spotted Flash's car—," Tara started.

"—Making for the gate," Tania finished.

Kelly nodded and sighed. She had forgotten the spiv was coming tonight.

"Right. Tell him I'll be down in a bit," she ordered.

"Yes, Kel," the twins nodded and skipped off to inform their tribe.

Kelly closed the door behind them and leaned her full weight against the aged wood. It had been a long day and now Kelly had to find some way to pull herself together without looking forward to a brief interlude with Chelsea or the girl's skilled fingers. With a deep breath, Kelly moved away from the door, checked her make-up in her wardrobe mirror, dressed back into her naughty schoolgirl uniform and quietly moved out into the night. On her way through the hall she passed just the person she had hoped to meet up with earlier.

"Evening, Kel," Chelsea greeted with a small smile as she smoothed her lip liner with a manicured finger.

The other totties weren't with her, but Chelsea sometimes saw their more high profile clients in their boudoir alone on certain nights while Peaches and Chloe worked the chat-line. It was the privilege of being the head Posh Totty (one that J.J. French had capitalized upon once she had become head girl and gained the privacy of her own bedroom).

Kelly's mouth spread into a hungry grin as she caught sight of the bubbly blonde. Her night might be looking up after all.

"Evening, Chelsea," Kelly said stopping the girl on her way to the dorms, "I was actually looking for you."

"What for, Kel?"

"There's a problem you can help me with," the head girl elaborated, her grin turning into a sultry smirk.

Chelsea though, for all of her talents was easily confused. Sometimes she really could be the blondest blonde in the world.

The posh tilted her head with concern clouding her features, "Problem? Was it something I did?"

Kelly sighed and rolled her eyes, taking the blonde's wrist and pulling her into a nearby store room, "No, but it's something you _can_ do."

* * *

><p>Annabelle and her father had had no idea what they were getting into when they had decided to send her to this school. At least, that was what Annabelle had thought, but maybe her father had known what sort of place it had been and sent her anyway so he wouldn't have to have her in the house. A little voice in the back of her mind argued that it wasn't the truth—that her father loved her and had just made another mistake like he had when he had forced her to stay at Cheltenham after Verity broke her arm their first year—but another more spiteful voice said that he had known exactly what he was doing and didn't care whether she was happy or fell off the face of the earth.<p>

So far, Annabelle had managed to descend the two flights of stairs from the dorms in relative quiet without once being stopped or questioned by another girl. Her shakeable nerves were doing well until she had phoned up her dad and been completely brushed off by him. His behaviour had struck a whole new cord within her, resonating like two flints together and sparking a resentment so strong that it couldn't be contained. The overspill of feeling had exploded in the slice of plastic and metal through soft stone as she shot her blackberry through great aunt Millicent's bust in the main hall.

The girl's jaw had dropped. Had she even known what she was doing? The answer was yes, but in a remote way as though she had been someone else watching herself execute the powerful slap shot with her hockey stick and cheering herself on all the way. The girl was even more surprised when a rough voice had called her name from the top of the stairs, not to reprimand or punish her, but to draft the new girl onto the hockey team as a form of praise at the master shot.

Making her way back up the stairs, Annabelle was relieved that Miss Cleaver hadn't decided to do anything to her, but on the other hand she had just deliberately destroyed school property and the responsible part of her brain was screaming that she should be punished or at least offer to cover the cost of a new bust with her pocket money.

The new girl made it back up the first flight of stairs and into the hallway leading to the second before a throaty moan interrupted her internal debate. Annabelle stopped dead in her tracks and listened. The sound came again, this time higher pitched and with more urgency. She felt her ears redden at the amount of feeling that came through the needy tone and followed it to a partially closed door. Spurred on by her own curiosity, she pressed one eye to the crack and immediately froze. Annabelle might've stopped breathing for a moment, she didn't know and couldn't have been bothered to care; the sight before her eyes had so transfixed the attention of every cell of her body.

The short haired brunette who had been the first to introduce Annabelle to the school was pressed against a shelf, leaning most of her weight on a large cardboard box that Annabelle could see was digging into the girl's back, but she apparently couldn't care less. Her dark eyes were closed and her head was thrown back, the smooth skin of her neck and open collar illuminated by the light coming through the windowpane in the ceiling as she groaned and bit one full red lip in anticipation.

Another girl, Annabelle would've had the decency to recognize if she could have even form a coherent thought at the moment had her head between the head girl's legs, her face obscured by a raised white thigh that only left the familiar blonde curls bobbing back and forth as one of the head girl's hands clutched at them like they were a lifeline. Kelly Jones muttered something breathlessly and the blonde seemed to have heard her as she increased her pace and the head girl's short breaths turned into shallow pants.

Annabelle knew she shouldn't be watching such an intimate exchange, but she was captivated by the sanguinely arching body that whimpered and writhed against the knowing blonde's ministrations before shuddering in a release so pure it caused Annabelle to bit her own lip as Kelly's open mouth curled into a perfect smile.

The head girl all but collapsed back against the shelf behind her as the tall blonde moved up and wrapped her arms around her in support. Only when Kelly's chin rested on Chelsea's still clothed shoulder did Annabelle find the strength to tear her eyes away from the scene and move away from the wall. Remembering how to breathe again, the new girl took a deep breath and ran for the stairs leading to the dorms.

Once she was sure she was safe, Annabelle slammed the door to the common room shut behind her and leaned back against it heavily, her bag and hockey stick clattering loudly to the floor in the empty dorm. All of the girls had gone down to the depot to do business with Flash, but they might have still all be there asleep and Annabelle wouldn't have cared. She closed her eyes as she tried to regain her senses. It felt like there wasn't a bone left in her whole body and her muscles shook with the effort of holding her upright. For a few moments, Annabelle struggled to get her breathing to even out as the image of Kelly Jones with her head thrown back and her skirt pushed up, hips undulating naturally as shallow pants became meaningful moans replayed behind Fritton's eyes again and again.

When she finally felt like she was regaining control of herself, Annabelle shook her head violently. What was wrong with her? Her heart was racing and she felt like she was about ready to bleed through the other side of her skin. Her own breathing sounded loud and raspy in her ears and she didn't even feel like she knew where or who she was, the feelings running through her veins were so intense. So overwhelming, so all-consuming.

Annabelle's whole body was thrumming with vibrant energy. One part of her brain was panicking, but the other half rationalized that the way she was feeling was a response to the scene she had just witnessed. Her breathing wasn't completely back to normal when she picked up her things and threw them by her bed. Annabelle knew her face was flushed as she crossed the room and slowly sat down upon her small single, but she wasn't sure she cared. Every fibre of her body was shaking and all she wanted was to crawl back to somewhere safe.

What was this feeling? Where was it coming from? And why couldn't she shut it off? Contrary to the popular belief of the girls at her former school, Annabelle Fritton wasn't a prude. She had just never had a reason or a want to get in touch with her sexuality. In fact, Annabelle was sixteen (soon to be seventeen) and sometimes it felt to her as if she didn't have a single hormone in her whole body. Well, a single normal hormone at least.

At Cheltenham, many of the girls had posters of Justin Bieber or Daniel Radcliffe on their dorm walls, "hot" guys who they wanted to snog and much, much more but Annabelle had had a poster-painting of Mozart in concert as a child with his sister and father above her bed and that was it. One of Verity's cronies had once mad an underhanded comment about her odd taste in porn, but aside from the unusual jibe here and there, Annabelle's lack of teenage hormones was the least picked upon of her incredibly flawed traits.

It was perhaps the one trait, though, these days that Annabelle was the most self-conscious about.

What she wanted to know was why? No one girl was struck from the same mould her mother used to say, but sometimes it seemed like Annabelle was the farthest missing link from the girls around her. Once, Miss Bagstock had organized a movie night in the dining hall of her old school to reward the girls for a victory over another team. Out of Miss Bagstock's options, they'd all decided upon the film _Notorious_.

Most of the student body had been completely focused on Cary Grant being all debonair and sexy as he always was in his films, but Annabelle had paid more attention to Ingrid Bergman, honestly. The Swedish accent, the soft as butter waves of blonde hair, the old fashioned dresses, and curves teasing, but concealed at the same time. There was no question why Cary Grant was always staring at her in every movie.

While the film played, Annabelle found it hard to take her eyes off of Ingrid. Everything about the Swedish beauty had her heart racing and her eyes watering, but she couldn't understand why that was. Everyone else was fawning over Cary Grant and when he took Ingrid Bergman in his arms to kiss her for the first time even Verity had gasped, but Annabelle had felt a tad uncomfortable.

Carey Grant just seemed…not right for Ingrid Bergman. She didn't know what exactly it was about him that made her think that. It could have been that his hands were too big or his face just looked too hard to meet Ingrid's velveteen lips and do anything other than smother the sweet duplicity of the blonde's kiss.

Since that night in fifth form, Annabelle had been on high alert for her own actions. Anytime she felt something suspicious or wondered something she shouldn't, she would suppress it beneath a façade of complete innocence and ignore it like it never happened. There were times when it was hard to hide what she was feeling. Like on the hockey pitch during practice in the rain when the wet shirts of her team members would cling to their athletic torsos and she would almost stop breathing at the finely outlined clevage underneath. That sort of feeling wasn't normal, Annabelle was aware of that much.

She knew it. Her father knew it and Verity had made sure that Annabelle never forgot it. _Annabelle the Cannibal_…hadn't just come about because of the braces, but no one here needed to know that.

She was at a new school, as new start and she would be damned if she would let that leak out to her new classmates. That and the fact that she thought the head girl was drop dead sexy and would be having naughty fantasies about her now for weeks would go with Annabelle to her grave. What was she supposed to do? Grab the intercom from Beverly and let the whole school know she was lusting after the illustrious head girl? Think not. She'd die first. She'd kill herself first.

Maybe she wouldn't have to though…

Annabelle startled and nearly fell off of the bed when the door to the dorm opened suddenly and Polly stepped in. The spectacled redhead took the room in at a quick glance and settled her attention upon Annabelle with a suspicious look.

"What are you doing up here? Why aren't you down in the depot with the other girls?" Polly asked, narrowing her eyes.

Annabelle bit her lip briefly before she came up with a response, "I—uh—oh—I fell asleep and I—I didn't know where everyone had gotten to when I woke up so I just decided to stay—stay here."

Polly remained quiet, taking in all of the details. Everything from Fritton's flushed appearance and deer-in-the-headlights look to the uncertain quiver in her voice told the geek that Annabelle had definitely been doing more in the last thirty minutes than sleeping. It was a question for another time though. Polly cleared her head as she remembered the reason she had come back to the dorms.

"Have you seen Kelly by any chance?" She asked.

Polly's eyes widened as this time, the new girl did fall clear off of her bed and disappeared over the other side. Blinking back her surprise and the urge to laugh, the geek moved forward to help the other girl off of the floor, but Annabelle had sprung anxiously back to her feet already.

"No!" the girl's answer was much louder and shriller than it needed to be for the question, "No—I haven't seen her!"

Polly's mouth hung open as the girl recovered herself, smoothing her skirt down and sitting back down on the bed. She decided to let it go though, not thinking she had enough resistance to not only keep herself from busting out laughing long enough to get the truth out of the other girl.

"Alright then," Polly shrugged as she rushed out of the dorms.

The door hadn't even latched closed before Annabelle heard the beginnings of gut busting laughter fill the hall outside. Her mouth hung open, mortified. The red haired geek couldn't have known, could she?

_**TBC…**_

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><p><strong>No worries readers, Chelsea and Kelly are not together, just friends with part time benefits is all. That will change soon. :] Please review and let me know what I am doing that you like or don't like or maybe some suggestions of scenes or further pairings you would like to see in this story. Thanks for reading and comment so I know if I should keep on writing this or not! <strong>


	4. Chapter Three

"I failed to tell you, to tell you now

That I've been fooled

Cause I'm not cool

And the scissors slide

Away with my pride…"

Sohodolls—_I'm Not Cool_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Three: Away With My Pride<strong>_

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><p>Eating breakfast wasn't a sin so why was she being punished by the porridge? Kelly's spoon lapped her bowl as she swirled it through the milk around the island of oats in the middle of her dish.<p>

"I am telling you there is something going on with her," Polly said across from Kelly, moving her empty bowl to the side and setting her laptop up on their table in the dining hall.

"Reckon maybe you just caught her on an off night?" the head girl suggested without conviction, dropping her spoon and leaning her chin on her palm.

Polly looked over her screen at Kelly and raised one eyebrow that suggested that the geek thought Kelly's sidelong quip wasn't funny.

The head girl had had enough practice growing up with that eyebrow and the various situations that she had gotten them into and it had criticized her for (like deciding to see just how strong the reinforced metal on an armoured car was by strapping a stick of live dynamite to the fender while it was driving down M5 at 80 mph) that she couldn't mistake its meaning.

Kelly just shrugged her shoulders in answer to the unvoiced question. Only Polly would ever see her like this: relaxed, informal, and vulnerable and she preferred to keep it that way. The only reason she could be this way around Polly anyway was because the geek didn't care and she knew her friend wouldn't think less of her for it.

Upon arriving at St. Trinian's as first years, the would be geek and the future head girl had found that they'd had similar experiences at the primary schools they had attended and reacted in similar ways. Kelly had set fire to a snobby year six's skirt during class who had teased her that her short mushroom haircut made her look like a pikey boy. Polly had gotten back at a bully who had stolen her glasses by exposing the pornographic emails her father was sending to the nursery teacher he was having an affair with to the media while cc-ing further copies to his wife and boss as well.

Both girls had had healthy defensive reactions to the things that offended them at an early age—Kelly since she was old enough to know that the pointy end of a knife went into the other person and Polly since she was tall enough to Xerox. Their similarities fostered a friendship that had sustained the two through broken relationships, family problems, complete chaos, and one year of Paul McGann in a _Doctor Who_ movie. Their friendship had been tested by enough violent forces that Kelly never doubted that Polly would ever go behind her back and betray her.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for all of her St. Trinian's girls.

They were pack animals at heart, needing a leader and if that leader showed even one moment of weakness, she would be taken down and replaced almost immediately. Kelly couldn't afford to let that happen. All her responsibilities and everything she was rode on her ability to remain as impassive and impenetrable as possible to the outside world. Best not to give anyone any opportunities to get at her because once they did…it would be all over. There was no getting up when another predator had you by the throat no matter how strong you were.

Kelly shook her head ruefully. Been watching too many wildlife documentaries. Damn BBC.

The head girl pushed her still full bowl of porridge away from her and stood. Polly spared her a bemused glance.

"Rounds, Pol," Kelly explained, not that she had to. She had had the same routine since year four. Even before she had been required to watch out for the other students, she had always patrolled the halls looking out for the school's best interests. It was one of the reasons J.J. French had recommended her for head girl in the first place—she had already been doing part of the job on her own anyway.

"Just remember what I said," Polly interjected before Kelly could get away. "There's something going on with that new Fritton girl. Might want to watch her, just in case."

"I'll make a note of it, but I think you're blowing this thing with her out of proportion," Kelly's voice floated back in Polly's direction as she sauntered away.

Polly smirked and leaned over her computer. _We'll see, Kelly Jones, we will see_.

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><p>Annabelle grimaced and opened her eyes only slightly on the light filled dorm. It was morning in the school where bombs were never disarmed and matches were plentiful and much to her surprise, Annabelle Fritton was still alive.<p>

She hadn't expected to be, to be honest. She had just sort of assumed that the other girls might try another prank and it would go deadly wrong while she slept. Maybe one of those first year twins who were always glaring at her all of the time had put a landmine underneath her bed for kicks or maybe Bianca wasn't as full of shite as Zoe claimed about those tongs and what she would do with them.

However, when Annabelle sat up, no bucket full of goo poured over her head and when she gingerly took her first step onto the hardwood floor, nothing exploded. On closer inspection, all of limbs seemed in working order and there were no red marks on her skin that she could see.

Either she was just damn lucky or the other girls had accepted her enough not to prank her. Either way, it was never a good idea to tempt fate and in a dorm still full of sleeping girls it was never a good idea to have one of them wake up and pick you as their target of ridicule for the day.

Annabelle bent low and quietly gathered her clothes and toiletries before leaving for an early shower.

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><p>Despite being a public school, next to nothing and no one roamed St. Trinian's hallways before ten in the morning except for Matron—when the alcohol stash in her room wasn't sufficient enough to give her the much needed buzz—and Kelly.<p>

Like the head of any pack, the head girl enjoyed touring her territory on a daily basis. It helped to know what she was dealing with before it happened. Until the girls woke up, there was no way of telling what their moods were going to be or what sort of hell they were going to unleash in the coming day, but patrolling the halls would help Kelly find any traps the girls had set the night before that had failed to be activated as well as find any students who might have wandered off after curfew and not quite made it back up the steep set of stairs leading to the dorms. Rarely did she find such students. Any St. Trinian's girl worth her Trinski could drink until the Bursar came in and still manage to crawl up that last flight and into their beds.

As Kelly sauntered through the halls on the first floor she passed empty classrooms and the toilets before coming to the communal showers. As she passed, Kelly was surprised to hear the spray of water from within. No one should have been out of bed yet except for her and Polly and Polly was still down to breakfast. There was no way she could've gone back to the dorms and beat Kelly back down to the first floor in record time. The redhead had never been very athletic and she never pretended that physicality was one of her strengths. Who could it have been then?

There were no other possibilities Kelly could pull from her knowledge of all of the usual suspects. The chavs didn't want to be up before the sun came up. The emos were usually just falling into their beds at dawn and the posh totties were usually passed out somewhere. The head girl braced herself and walked into the community showers, her heels clicking sublimely against the tiled floor. The sound announced her entry long before she could have been seen by the young brunette trying to rinse the shampoo out of her hair as quickly as possible. Kelly paused midstride as she recognized Annabelle Fritton's profile though the dividing glass.

Almost as quickly her brain processed who it was, part of it had sent down an order to the muscles to make an immediate retreat from the room before the young Fritton turned to find her there. But the other part—the more dominant part that controlled the management of anarchy and the insatiability of her teenage libido—gave the order to stand her ground. And she did.

Annabelle ran the fingers of one hand through her dark hair, washing out the shampoo. She hadn't heard Kelly's heels enter the room and apparently had no idea she was being watched. As the girl's hands threaded through her hair in concentration, it involuntarily thrust her chest forward and exposed her breasts in a way that made all of Kelly's sex-soaked dreams look as innocent as children's movies. Weird how the girl's thin, lithe body channelled the graceful sleekness of a fashion model even when she wasn't paying attention or meaning to. The steaming water highlighted the pale reflection of Annabelle's skin, bare of marks save for a thin red scar across one hip and a mushroom shaped birthmark on her back.

The whole image together sent a flash of heat through Kelly that made her feel giddy, bothered, and dizzy all at once. Being hot for someone was one thing, but this new feeling was stronger than that. More overwhelming, more all-encompassing than just lust it seemed to rock her all the way through to her core. It made her want to get to know Annabelle better, figure out her hopes, her wants, and maybe give her some of them. It made Kelly want to be the centre of Fritton's world in a way that shifted the centre of the head girl's own life and vandalized it "property of Annabelle". Kelly shuddered with the strength of emotion running through her.

Annabelle hadn't been aware she was being watched and wouldn't have known anyone had been there if it hadn't been for the heavy shutting of the door that made her almost jump out of her skin as the one person she wanted to know more than anything retreated to safer ground.

* * *

><p>The St. Trinian's team had already set themselves up on the hockey pitch with the rest of the student body to taunt their approaching rivals for the first game of the season. They had just settled onto the pitch, the younger girls giving a rousing chorus of 'Who Let the Dogs Out' at the Cheltenham team when the trouble started.<p>

"Oi! Kel, check this out."

Kelly looked in the direction of the more than slightly angry voice. Taylor wasn't just the head rude girl, she was also voted the most likely of the student body to commit herself to a one person war against the world. At a school like St. Trinian's, this was saying something. This time though the chav's anger came with a little bit of well thought out caution. She was standing not too far from where Andrea and the new Fritton girl had set themselves up into a loose team formation. Annabelle was being stalked by a group of Cheltenham girls. A tall blonde was leading the pack and she looked to be as obnoxious and ominous as she probably was stupid and snobby. She made a v-line straight for Annabelle leaving no question as to who her target was.

"Girls, look who it is. It's Annabelle the Cannibal."

To her credit, the new girl didn't do what half the second years were taking bets out on her to do, she hadn't run from the pitch in tears and she didn't look like she was going to anytime soon. But the last thing Kelly wanted to do was watch her get beaten to death with a hockey stick because she couldn't defend herself. After all, the head girl had spent the past two weeks making sure Annabelle was surviving life at their school and aside from that, she was beginning to figure out that she had taken a liking to the new girl that wasn't strictly platonic.

"Damn," Kelly grit her teeth and started for what was bound to turn out to be a bad situation.

Andrea's arms were slung loosely over the hockey stick on her shoulders, but even she looked like she might use it soon. Taylor was way ahead of her, marching towards the small group in a long stride. A few of the Cheltenham girls had noticed the attention they were getting and had moved back to practicing instead of getting involved in a fight that might get the whole team disqualified and give St. Trinian's the win by default. One of them tried talking Verity into backing off before the situation could get combative, but she wouldn't have any of it. Instead, the tall blonde raised her stick and pointed the end of it towards Annabelle menacingly.

"You're dead, Fritton. You hear me? Dead!"

With one final stare, Verity turned and went back to her team just as Taylor came up behind Annabelle. The chav leader followed Verity's retreat slightly as if making sure she wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

"What was that all about?" Taylor asked.

Kelly hurried up beside Taylor, seemingly just another obstacle between the Cheltenham bully and Annabelle, but she also managed to make the movement look as unrushed and natural as possible. The head girl's eyes followed the withdrawing back of the blonde girl then shifted towards Taylor and into a short, sidelong glance at Annabelle to make sure there wasn't a scratch on her.

Annabelle rolled her eyes, frustrated with the whole humiliating situation. "I used to eat people," she sighed.

"Huh?" Kelly squeaked. That had thrown her completely off. A fruit fly looked like it could beat this Fritton girl's arse in a fight and here she was confessing that she could beat the stuffing out of something roughly human size and then still have the strength to eat it? Bollocks.

Annabelle suddenly looked chagrined and fiddled with the hockey stick in her hands to help hide her growing embarrassment at the curious scrutiny from the two girls.

"I used to have…braces…and bits of food got stuck in them," she grudgingly admitted.

Taylor and Kelly both shared a look. At St. Trinians every mark of difference made each girl worth their weight in hydrogen bombs. Normalcy wasn't something that was tolerated without any sort of retaliation.

"Nice," Kelly appraised, a tad impressed.

Almost imperceptibly, the head girl let out a deep breath and released tight muscles she hadn't realized had been tense in the first place. It was so unusual for her to lose her composure that she hadn't realized how afraid she was until the adrenaline had begun to ebb away. Yes, it had happened: Kelly Jones had finally felt actual fear since she first set foot in the doors of St Trinian's as a napalm-praising ten year old and it had taken this Fritton girl to make her feel it.

Odd. Must be coming up on my time of the month or something, Kelly reasoned.

The hockey match that followed was dirty, underhanded, and a battle to do St. Trinian's proud for years to come. It all culminated in the final goal made by St. Trinian's own head girl, which incidentally also knocked the other team captain off her feet (not accidentally). After running around and reveling in the cheers of the other girls, Kelly quietly slipped out of the mosh pit that had gathered around her on the pitch and walked towards where Verity lay, Miss Bagstock and a paramedic leaning over her. Despite a growing red spot on her face and blood running from her nose, Verity appeared to be alright and her blue, pain-filled eyes followed Kelly's lithe form hatefully down to kneel beside her.

"Good game. Sorry about what happened to you," Kelly said in a rich tone that showed just how proudly unrepentant she really was.

Then beneath the interested looks of both Miss Bagstock and the paramedic, Kelly bent even further down until her lips were just a fraction away from Verity's ear.

"You so much as breathe on her again, Thwaites, and my girls will be wiping your blue blood on the walls," she whispered, straightening enough for the Cheltenham bully see the unwavering look in her dark eyes. There was no question as to who Kelly was referring to and even Verity seemed to acknowledge it when her bloody nostrils flared.

With that small thing taken care of, Kelly stood and sauntered back to the group of jeering St. Trinian's. Annabelle was still laying on the ground where she had been pushed by one of the Cheltenham team. She didn't appear to be hurt at all, just unwilling to get back up and rejoin the world. The sun was bright in the light blue sky and her head was turned in the opposite direction to avoid the glare and the celebrating throng of school girls hopping up and down beside her. Kelly walked up beside her, trying not to let her eyes linger the way they did over the slight, supple curves concealed beneath the girl's gym kit. Get a hold of yourself, Jones. You know better.

"See anything good from down there?" Kelly quipped, announcing her presence.

Annabelle didn't move, didn't look at the dark haired girl or give any indication that she even knew what was going on aside from her words.

"Grass and dirt," Annabelle answered unenthusiastically.

Kelly's smirk widened as she studied the defeated girl, "Can't go wrong with the basics."

Annabelle didn't reply. She had expected the head girl to move away from her, to run off and celebrate her victory with the other girls and just leave her to contemplate the day, but that's not what happened. Instead, Kelly lowered herself down on her back and laid beside the other girl, deep dark eyes turning to peer into Annabelle's own hazel ones. A pink blush rose over Annabelle's cheeks at the closeness of their bodies, of their faces…of their mouths. What's she playing at? Annabelle wondered.

No one in this whole hallowed school really cared for her, not even her aunt whom Annabelle was willing to wager on the first year's board, only made a pass at familial love for the school fees her father had dished out in cash. Even the head girl whose every attention dripped mystery, acumen, and sex in every direction probably wasn't particularly interested in Annabelle's well-being passed the fact that she was the headmistress's niece and it wouldn't do to have her die…at least not on school grounds.

But even that couldn't explain the head girl's behavior right now or the flush of Annabelle's skin in response to the other girl's closeness. Internally, she was just as thrilled as she was confused that Kelly was paying attention to her. She had thought she didn't have a decent hormone in her body, but the older girl's close proximity had proven Annabelle wrong. They were there, pulsing like tiny pinpricks of light and heat beneath the surface of her being and whenever she was near Kelly they burst forward, a force so overwhelming it seemed that they might crash against her skin and explode out the other side.

"Good job today. We usually give Cheltenham hell on the pitch, but you put the fear of fair play into them and that's not easy to do," Kelly complimented in a whisper.

Even with the nearness overwhelming her, there was no mistaking the humor in the head girl's voice. Kelly's wine-coloured smirk widened and Annabelle felt a shiver of energy speed up her spine like a shot of mercury.

"Ready to re-join the living again? They'll party without us, but I'd rather be there before the twins get the idea to spike everybody's drinks with shots of Trinski. Not something to miss for the world," the head girl coaxed, rolling up onto her knees and extending a hand towards Annabelle. When the other girl didn't move, she nodded her head to one side causing her black bob to swirl around her head in the sunlight, a move too sexy for anyone other than her to pull off.

"Come on then. I won't bite…hard," Kelly quipped.

Annabelle took the head girl's hand, but hesitated only a moment before she allowed Kelly to pull her to her feet beside her. They walked back to the group of cheering girls, Annabelle lagging behind Kelly by a few steps, not sure if she could stand to feel the promising heat radiating off of her body another second.

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><p><strong><em>Comments? Thanks for reading! :]<em>**


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